By Mutual Argument
by Stargazer at Moonlight
Summary: Five times Sideswipe and Prowl argued and one time they did not.
1. Do It With Style Or Not At All

"But it was so well done, Prowl!" the red frontliner protested form his seat before the tactician's desk. "I mean, look at how well the minibots resemble the Stunticons now! Of course, they're on a miniature scale, but now the group designation makes so much more sense since they're _stunted_ versions of them!"

The Praxian sighed heavily as he looked at the image captures of the prankster's results. "Did you really have to antagonize Cliffjumper even further though? There was no evidence that it had been you until you started bragging right in front of everyone. That was not a smart decision, Sideswipe."

He did have to admit that the prank itself was hilarious, but Sideswipe's insistence on claiming it as his own just made his job more difficult in some aspects, easier in others. If he did not do so, he would not be forced to assign the mech punishment details. All he could do was thank Primus that Jazz never felt the need to notify everyone of his superiority so he did not have to punish the mech he had only recently entered a relationship with. If only the hellion sitting before him would learn that discretion, he would have so much less work to do. It was highly unlikely that it would happen, but he could hope.

"Just give it to me, cop bot. I can handle it."

"You would not have to if you would refrain from your bragging. However, as I have no choice, you will be in the brig for an orn barring a Decepticon attack and then will resupply Hoist with all of the paint used in the prank and in their repaints. You know the way down."

Sideswipe laughed as he stood and moved to leave the tactician's office before pausing at the doorway. "But you've gotta admit it was good!"


	2. An Explosion Waiting To Happen

"Why in the fragging Pit did that ever seem like a good idea to you, Sideswipe?" Prowl growled lowly, doorwings flared threateningly as he advanced on the red hellion who was cowering away from him in the middle of the plains they had been accosted in. "Do you not understand that there are _reasons_ behind my rule of _never actually using_ one of _Wheeljack's_ weapons?"

"But it was a good idea at the time!"

"No, it was not, you _idiot_! We _threaten_ the Decepticons with their use, but we _never actually use_ them! They always leave craters that we then have to work around!"

"It got the 'Cons to leave though!"

_"And nearly deactivated us in the process!"_


	3. Sibling Rivalry

"Can you _please_ stop brawling in the halls?" Prowl asked with a sigh as he escorted Sideswipe to the brig from the med bay.

"That wasn't a brawl!"

"Then what was it?" he asked with another long-suffering sigh.

"_That_ was a minor disagreement," Sideswipe answered cheekily, turning an innocent smile on the tactician.

"I really do not want to see what a major disagreement between you two is, then, but try and confine everything to your berth room. Ratchet does not like so much collateral damage."

"Well, there wouldn't be any if they would stop trying to interfere."

"Well, it's not like I can order them _not to_! Fraggers can't follow orders worth slag even in battle," Prowl complained, smashing his palm down on the door lock in one of his rare displays of temper.


	4. Drunk Comparisons

"I think the last batch was better."

"Naw, Prowl! This one's better! It's smoother and doesn't burn the intake as much."

"Ah, but I like more acidic mixes, Sideswipe."

"Which I still don't understand. Your systems are more sensitive than most everyone's and yet you like the stuff that can cause the most damage. It makes no sense."

"Of course it does."

"Well, I don't see how, so it isn't."

"Oh yes it is."

They devolved into pathetic bickering as they continued drinking cubes of a new batch of high grade that Sideswipe was trying a new recipe through. When the supply of cubes finally ended, Sideswipe stood and left, his gate carefully normal so as to not give away what had just taken place in Prowl's office.


	5. Private Problems

"Come on, Prowl! It was all done in fun!"

"Giving me an aphrodisiac laced cube when I do not have a willing berthmate is just plain cruel, Sideswipe," the tactician growled, his systems still running hot as he glared at the mech in the brig.

"Wait!" The red hellion stared at him in shock. "But you're with _Jazz_, mech!"

"And we are not yet at that stage of our relationship!"

"Slag," he muttered, dropping his helm into his hand. "We didn't know that. Just kind of assumed, ya know? He's almost always in someone's berth – or was – and _you_ sure never waited this long to tempt the mech you were dating into your berth."

Prowl slumped. "I know, but he has yet to even _notice_ me trying to tempt him! That does not excuse your use of aphrodisiacs on me, though."

He held his hands up in surrender. "Well, I wouldn't have if I'd known!"


	6. Rough Comfort

Sideswipe slumped down into the chair across the empty desk form the tactician and reach into subspace, removing what became a small stack of energon cubes. They would go through all of them by the end of the dark cycle after such a wretched battle earlier in the orn. "Gonna help me finish them?"

"Got any acidic ones in this batch?"

He pointed at the slightly darker cubes that were set closer to the Praxian in answer. They were both silent as they downed two cubes before picking up a third and leaning back, propping their feet up on the desk. Prowl broke the silence as he contemplated his cube.

"Why does everyone believe we do not get along?"

"Apparently because we argue so much," the frontliner answered, taking another sip of his, more chemically basic, high grade.

"But it is usually for our amusement or to vent. Do they really take everything we say to each other so seriously?"

"Sadly."


End file.
